


Lexicon of a Liaison

by guardiancastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardiancastiel/pseuds/guardiancastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Castiel have crossed a dangerous line, and Dean was to be busy thinking about himself. Gabriel can't stay away from Dean; actions speak louder than words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They were stuck together with sweat and _other_ suspicious fluids; Dean breathed heavily into the crook of Castiel's neck and kissed the edges of his jaw just as he rolled over off of his lover.

Their stuttered breaths echoed in the darkness of the room and Castiel turned to Dean and wrapped his arms around him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"That was great," he whispered.

Dean hummed and Castiel could picture him smirking; his eyes closed, reliving the moments of their ecstasy.

A warmth grew between their bodies and shortly, they both drifted off to sleep.

&&&

Castiel awoke engulfed in coldness and stared wearily at the empty spot next to him.

To summarize; the Apocalypse had been averted and everything turned out somewhat _fine_. Despite the departure of angels, Castiel had chosen to stay on Earth--along with Gabriel, who pleasantly continued to moonlight as a Trickster now and then--and help Dean and Sam continue to fight the good fight.

A few realizations had been _realized_. Most notably, Dean declaring his more than platonic feelings for Castiel.

The declaration had started off with Dean simply stating that Castiel was one of his closest friends, then that _title_ escalated to Castiel becoming one of Dean's _best_ friends and then _that_ led to Dean confessing that _maybe_ they should _possibly_ get together.

At the time, Castiel hadn't understood what that meant. He knew he had always loved Dean, but the love Dean was asking for was different.

For one thing, _relationship_ type of love had conditions. There was the **knowing** each other, like nobody else could. There was the spending time together--which came easy at first--and then there was the _physical_ aspect.

Castiel had forever invaded Dean's personal space, and he had _thought_ that that had bothered Dean (as he constantly reminded Castiel to back off), but later on Dean had admitted otherwise. 

Dean had eased him into the physicality by kissing him tenderly at special moments and then passionately at other times; like after particularly dangerous fights. 

The touching was a pleasant transition. He never realized how much he longed for Dean to touch him and the places he would let Dean's hands go would bring up goose bumps along his spine. 

Castiel's breath would catch when Dean would unexpectedly shove one of his hands down the front of his pants. They would be alone in the Impala and Sam would be elsewhere and the world would vanish _and-and-and_.

Castiel would moan and utter jumbled sentences and Dean would press his lips against Castiel's ear and whisper sweet _dirty_ nothings into it. Then his hips would buck with every pump Dean's hand would supply.

The sex was amazing, _eventually_. It had been awkward at first, with Dean never having had sex with another man before and with Castiel never having had sex at all. But they fell into the motion of it very quickly and with much enthusiasm.

And now they were _here_.

Castiel passed his hand over the spot that Dean had occupied the night before and sighed. He pushed himself up slowly into a sitting position; the motel air-conditioner buzzed loudly as he ran a hand over his face and up towards his bed flattened hair. He spiked it up comically and pushed off the bed sheet that had tangled itself around his waist.

Someone cleared their throat.

Castiel whipped his head towards the kitchen area of the motel and found Sam sitting at the table, coffee mug in one hand newspaper in the other. Their widened in shock eyes met and Castiel quickly scrambled for the bed sheet he had pushed off his naked body.

Sam laughed nervously. "Sorry, Cas. I should've gave you a heads up when I got in. Uh, I didn't know you were completely naked under there. I could leave and come back later, if you want."

Castiel blushed and nodded. "Sam, before you go, Where's Dean?"

"He wasn't here when I came in," Sam looked sympathetic as he walked slowly towards the door. "He probably just went out for a drink."

Castiel smiled and Sam left.

There was a brand new bottle of Jim Beam that Castiel had bought for Dean sitting on the nightstand. He eyed it venomously and tipped it over the edge.

It shattered shamelessly, spilling its liquid filling and glass skeleton everywhere. For a second he felt like stepping on it, adding injury to insult.

Before they had stopped the Apocalypse things had gotten heavy. Everyday seemed like the last and everyone carried a statuesque look on their faces. Fear was the emotion they covered up with that ominous expression but the thing they couldn’t quell was the pace of their heart rate.

Adrenaline could very well be the reason the Apocalypse was stopped. If it hadn’t been for that drive, that simple passion buried deep down within them, the world could be nothing but ash and bitter sweet memories right now.

But the world kept turning after that long fight. Castiel could still remember the pain he had went through as he charged in to fight the Devil; the hits he took, the limbs that had been ripped from his vessels body. He was forever thankful that afterwards, Heaven awarded him with Jimmy’s _un-torn un-broken_ body.

The real Jimmy had finally passed on to that final resting place. For a long while Castiel had feared that his vessel’s soul had been burned out by his own angelic presence, but as soon as he asked to stay on Earth. Heaven had gently called Jimmy home and left Castiel with the body. 

Castiel dabbed a towel over his chest and wiped a hand over the fog covered bathroom mirror. His hair was still soaking wet from the shower and as he pulled on one of Dean’s button down flannel shirts he shook his head like a peeved dog. Water droplets ended up all over the bathroom and as Castiel stared at his reflection little streams of the liquid ran over his face. He quickly flicked off the bathroom light and headed out into the room.

Sam was there, sitting at the table hunched over many large books and furrowing his brow into oblivion like he did most everyday now. Castiel smiled and wondered if he should button up his shirt or even the jeans he was wearing or just leave them open like he did around Dean.

With his new found humanity Castiel had gotten rid of some of his inhibitions. He found that he enjoyed being naked. Of course, he found this out through Dean, but the first time he took a shower and let the warm water run down his body it was like a revelation. 

Castiel cleared his throat and Sam looked up. 

“Cas, hey,” he looked back down at the text he was reading. “You’re more appropriately dressed this time.”

“Have you discovered more about the genie?” Castiel asked as he leaned over Sam, reading the open book in front of the younger Winchester.

A rogue genie named Ravannah was the boys’ current monster of the week and things hadn’t been going well as far as stopping the evil bitch. She had caused the deaths of five people already when Sam, Dean and Castiel had gotten into town and two more people had died since then. 

Sam and Cas were in charge of the research and neither one of them seemed to be able to find a way to gank the genie.

“Uh, no. A lot of stuff I’ve read up on says they’re basically like a djinn just with a different name,” Sam ran his finger over a paragraph in the book. “What I’m reading right now is about a _Qareen_ ; a special type of genie assigned to a person at birth.”

“Like a guardian angel,” Castiel nodded. 

“Yeah, except the one we’re dealing with is evil,” Sam sighed and shut the gigantic book; he looked up at Cas whose damp chest was pressed against his right shoulder.

Cas looked down, made a nervous sound and stood up.

“I got your shirt wet,” he pointed out.

“It’s cool,” Sam smiled, his eyes on the area of his shirt that was darkened by water.

Castiel walked backward until he felt the bed against the back of his legs and let himself down upon it. 

“Is there anything about how to kill it?” He asked, taking their moment in a different direction. 

“Not really, I’m thinking about heading down a more commercial road on this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I rented Aladdin.”

“What-what’s Aladdin?”

Sam laughed, got up and headed for his laptop.

“Aladdin,” Sam plopped himself besides Castiel on the bed. “Is a Disney cartoon. It’s mostly about this guy named Aladdin who is kind of destined to go down in some cave to retrieve a lamp that contains a genie for this _right hand man_ of a sultan type of guy named Jafar.” 

Sam opened his laptop and Castiel eyed him in confusion

“I haven’t seen it in a while, so sorry about the vague description. But long story short, in this movie, the only way a genie can become free is if the current owner of it’s lamp wishes them free and _basically_ the only way to trap a genie is to wish them back into their lamp.”

“So we need another genie,” Castiel sighed.

“Yes, or else there’s no possible way we’re stopping this thing.”

Castiel chuckled.

“What?” Sam grinned.

“It is just every time we get together, we seem to put a morbid situation into an even more morose state.”

Sam smiled and pushed his laptop aside onto the bed. “So, how’s it going?”

“What?”

“The whole personality thing,” Sam wiped his thumb over his lips. “I mean you smile a lot more, and laugh a lot more than that.”

“Dean,” Castiel answered simply, but he quickly realized that maybe it wasn’t that simple. 

“Oh,” Sam looked like he had been kicked in the stomach.

“You make me smile too,” Castiel corrected.

&&&

Dean awoke sometime around five that morning and tried his best not to wake up Cas as he got out of bed, got dressed and left.

Ever since they had halted the Apocalypse, in secret, Dean had been getting up before sunrise. He would drive out to a secluded place and watch the sun come up, something he hadn’t done by choice in a long time. Then he would grab breakfast for everyone and head back to the hotel.

But for the past month, he would stay out as long as he could. He’d walk around the town they’d be held up in, go into every bar at least once and then maybe squeeze in some detective work if he felt like it.

When he would get back to the motel Sam would drill him on where he had been; Cas would never ask, which made Dean wonder when his time would be up on that issue. He would never go back to the motel empty handed though, ‘information getting’ came easy for Dean.

“Why are you in every bar I walk into?” Dean asked in his perfectly gruff voice.

“Why are you in a bar at two in the afternoon?” Gabriel laughed as he stirred his drink with his right index finger.

“I’m thirsty,” Dean made a little _click_ noise with his tongue and slid into a stool next to Gabriel. 

Gabriel flagged down the bartender and ordered a round of shots of whiskey for both of them.

“So, what can I do you for now, Winchester?” Gabriel asked, a devilish smile spreading across his lips.

“Nice words,” Dean sighed and downed both shots of whiskey that Gabriel had ordered for them.

“Or is it,” Gabriel inquired. “That your just avoiding someone.”

“Nope, not avoiding anybody, I just need information.”

“So you won’t go back home to the ball and chain empty handed?

“Hey,” Dean grabbed Gabriel by his shirt collar. “Cas isn’t a ball and chain.”

“How’d you know I was talking about Castiel?” Gabriel laughed and Dean let him go. “I could’ve been talking about Sam.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think you were.”

“I wasn’t,” Gabriel huffed. “So, Castiel’s not a ball and chain. He’s more like furry hand cuffs.”

Dean made a noise and ordered another shot of whiskey. “I need info on the genie we’re dealing with, so if you’ll cut the chit chat-.”

“You’re going to need another genie,” Gabriel cut it. 

“Specify.”

“To wish Ravannah back into the lamp she was let out of.”

“Okay,” Dean dragged out. “How do we find another genie?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“I could pull a few strings.”

“So pull them,” Dean threw back another shot. “I need this done by tomorrow.”

Gabriel smiled and snorted. “Dean, un-like your boyfriend, I’m not your bitch. And you should keep in mind that just because I’ve helped you with _every_ case as of late, doesn’t mean I’ll _continue_ to help you without some conditions.”

Dean slammed a fist down onto the counter of the bar. “Then quit showing up in every town we blow through!”

“Quit hoping to see me and I will.”

&&&

When Dean returned to the motel everything was quiet except for a few laughs that escaped from the dark room.

Sam and Cas were sitting on the bed, laptop open, watching its screen intently.

Dean flicked the lights on and both of their heads shot up.

“Time for you to leave, Sam” Dean stated as he began to take off his coat.

“Where have you been?” Sam shut the laptop and slid off the bed

Dean ignored his brother and looked over to Castiel, who still sat upon the bed. In a few fluid steps Dean was in front of him, cupping his face in his hands and rubbing the edges of Castiel’s jaw slowly.

“Dean,” Sam prodded. “Where were you?”

“Detective work, Sammy.” Dean leaned down a little and kissed Castiel deeply. “Now, get out!”

Sam huffed and with his laptop tucked under his arm he left, slamming the door as hard as he could.

Ever since Dean and Cas had gotten together, Sam had his own room. It was an all day sex marathon for those two and Sam guessed it was mostly his brother doing the initiating.

Sam could _see_ that it was mostly his brother doing the initiating and usually the initiation would occur when Dean showed up after a long while of being gone.

Sam threw his laptop onto his bed.

There was something Sam had to admit to himself, before he could go on with a rant about how his brother was subtly mistreating Castiel.

Somewhere, sometime along the way of their never ending _kill everything that is evil_ journey, Sam had _fallen in like_ with Castiel.

He would never push it and let himself think that he had _fallen in love_ with Castiel, because that would just be too much. 

Sam didn’t have what Dean had, that connection that already bound him to Castiel. No one had pulled Sam out of any _perdition_ , or had fallen from _Heaven_ to help him fight the Apocalypse. 

Sam was just the other brother, the third wheel, the person that ‘ _cock-blocks you because **sex time is all the time for you and your boyfriend**_ ‘. 

But what he did have that his brother didn’t, was the sense to know when you’re hurting the person you’re in a relationship with. 

Dean would leave whenever he pleased, come back without explanation and always mysteriously present them with new vital information on the case they would be working. 

Sam tried to follow him once, but he knew that Dean _knew_ he was following him, so he quit while he was ahead.

And now Sam was here, able to hear the cries of passion from next door and it was funny to think that tomorrow he’d be right in that room mildly comforting the person most affected by Dean’s increasing absences.

&&&

Like a djinn, Ravannah could create things out of thin air.

In this, comical yet difficult fight, she had brought forth stealthy Chinese star throwing ninjas.

As one of the stars struck Sam in the shoulder, Ravannah laughed from the sidelines.

“Face it, boys,” she laughed. “You can’t beat me!”

“Cas!” Dean yelled from under the weight of two ninjas. “Hurry up!”

Castiel had managed to lock himself in the Impala with a lamp Dean had brought to them just minutes before the fight. He rubbed it in quick strokes and it began to smoke almost immediately. 

The windshield of the Impala shattered just as a small boy appeared from the smoke and sat in front of Castiel in the back seat of the car. 

“Whoever it is that has awakened me from my slumber, is granted three wishes proceeding the act-,” the small boy spoke, unaffected by the happenings around him. 

“I wish Ravannah to become a genie as she once was!” Castiel yelled over the clatter of ninjas trying to climb into the front of the Impala.

“Your wish is my command,” the boy said calmly.

Outside, Dean was punching his way out of the grip of the two ninjas when he heard Ravannah scream.

Suddenly, the ninjas seemed to disappear into puffs of black smoke, even the Chinese star sticking out of Sam’s shoulder had vanished and Ravannah withered in pain as her body became incorporeal. 

A golden lamp formed out of thin air and began to suck in the newly reinstated genie into its depths. In a few seconds everything was over and calm once again. 

“I wish for the windshield of Dean’s Impala to be fixed,” Castiel looked down at the small boy in front of him.

Everyone had agreed that wishing for something big, would be out of the question. Out of experience everyone knew wishes and things like that in general, came with a pretty hefty price, though the small genie insisted otherwise. Still, it was good just to stick to the basic problems of the moment.

The small boy nodded and a new windshield appeared just after everyone had blinked their eyes.

“You should’ve asked for an indestructible windshield, Cas” Dean said as he tapped the new glass. “You know, just in case.”

“I wish for Sam’s wounds to be healed,” Castiel used his last wish.

With another nod from the genie, Sam’s wounds closed up and he drew up a finger to make sure the accelerated healing was real. He poked at where the star had pierced his flesh and felt nothing but smooth skin.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam flashed a smile towards him, and he returned the gesture amicably. 

“It was no problem.”

Dean flicked his eyes back and forth between his boyfriend and his brother and cleared his throat.

“So what happens now?” Dean pointed a finger at the small genie and then at the lamp that lay on the ground across from them. “You can take that with you, can’t you?”

The boy nodded. “I can make sure no one fails victim to this demon,” he opened his hand and the lamp that was once on the ground appeared in the palm of it. Then just as quickly as it appeared it disappeared into nothingness.

“My service has been fulfilled here. My lamp?” 

Castiel handed the genie his lamp and then both boy and item disappeared into a blue radiant smoke. 

“Well that was trippy,” Dean piped as he climbed into the Impala.

When they got back to the motel, Dean suggested that they stay another night and get some rest before they head out in search of another case. 

“Catch some beauty sleep and get on sometime around noon,” Dean paced aimlessly around the room, sipping on a beer and looking as though he had things to do, even though business had been taken care of.

“Dean, where did you get that lamp?” Sam started in.

Dean sighed. ‘Ebay, Sammy. It just shipped in today.”

“Excuse me? Ebay?”

“Yeah, wonders of the Internet, huh?”

“You don’t even know what Ebay stands for and you expect us to believe that crap, Dean?”

Castiel off to the corner, eyed both brothers cautiously.

“Why would I lie?”

“Uh, maybe, to cover up where you have been going lately!” Sam held his arms out like an buff overgrown Jesus and bulged out his eyes at his denying older brother. 

Abruptly, Dean stopped pacing. “That’s none of your business.”

“Is it his business?” Sam pointed at Castiel.

“No,” Dean threw the beer he was drinking against the wall and it shattered instantly. 

Castiel flinched slightly and watched as Dean pushed past his brother and went out the door, Sam calling after him.

“Just let him go, Sam,” Cas said softly. 

“No, he thinks he can just leave without telling anybody where he’s going. Something could happen to him or-or-or,” Sam began to stutter out of frustration and then threw a punch into the air. 

He sighed and ran his hands through his to long hair. “Do you want something to drink?” Sam laughed nervously and prompted Castiel. 

“Sure.”

“Dr. Pepper, right?” Sam remembered the mans favorite soft drink.

“Yeah,” Castiel grinned.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

It had began to rain just as Sam reached the vending machines across their rooms. He could feel the foreboding undertones in the weather tease his already crappy mood and as he pushed the Dr. Pepper button for the thirtieth time in a row he heard a small noise creep next to him. 

His head jerked in the direction of the noise and his eyes fell upon a completely soaked Castiel.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing out here? And you’re soaking!” Sam pulled him under the small roof of the vending area. “You could’ve used an umbrella.”

“I like the way the rain feels,” Castiel muttered from behind chattering teeth.

Sam began to rub Castiel’s arms to generate some warmth for him. “You’ve felt rain before, Cas.”

“Not as a human,” he pointed. “Only as an angel.”

“How is it any different?”

“Before, I could barely feel the water on me, like it was beneath me and didn’t deserve to fall against my body. It was like my being would penetrate the rain and now it seems to be penetrating me.”

Sam laughed. “You should word that differently.”

“I can’t really describe it any other way.”

“So, you came out for the rain?” Sam spoke louder as the rainfall became heavier. 

“No, I came to ask you how you keep a relationship from falling apart.”

“I’m not really a good example, Cas.”

“But you have done it before? Held a long term relationship?”

“Yes, but listen, Cas. Dean isn’t like any of the girlfriends I’ve had.” Sam added a mental ‘ _Thank God_ ' to that sentence. “You have to cut him some slack, he’s not used to-.” 

Sam caught his words. He was about to stick up for his brother.

“A ball and chain,” Castiel whispered.

“What? No!” Sam grabbed Castiel’s shoulders. “You’re not a ball and chain, it’s just, Dean’s never been in a relationship longer than a couple of weeks.”

“I just thought things would be different between us.” Castiel looked up into Sam’s eyes.

“They could be,” Sam whispered as he remembered his hands were still on Castiel.

The rain began to pour down in streams and the sound of it hitting the ground was much like that of waves hitting the seashore of a quiet beach. Sam would remember it as the soundtrack to their first kiss.

He had to lean down considerably to kiss Castiel, but it all seemed very easy with Castiel’s hand on the back of his neck leading him down slowly towards his lips. 

It was a hungry connective kiss, and in the heat of the moment Sam shoved Castiel forcefully into the vending machine behind him. He could hear the smaller man moan between kisses and Sam would playfully bite at his lower lip, fueling the desire between them farther into dangerous depths. 

Everything seemed so sloppy and adolescent; fumbling hands and shaking bodies. Castiel was soaking wet and that made Sam feel like he was clutching a pile of wet clothes, but it just made him hold on tighter, creating a wet warmth between them.

The concept of time fell away and the only thing keeping them grounded was the gasps of air they had to come up for after long whiles of entanglement. 

Sam’s hands began to search for more as they made their way to Castiel’s crotch. He heard Castiel’s breath catch as he touched him more intimately, but just as he reached a new terrain, Castiel bucked and pushed Sam away.

Their mouths were red from kissing and their breaths were shallow.

“No,” Castiel whispered.

Sam wiped the back of his arm over his moist mouth and shook the hair out of his face.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I-.”

Before Sam could say anything else, Castiel turned away and hurriedly headed back to his room.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He pulled at his longer locks, yanking out a few strands as he went.

&&&

Dean smiled at the waitress in front of him and handed her back the menu she had given him. “I’ll just have the cherry pie, heavy on the whipped cream.” 

“No problem, honey,” She tucked the menu under her arm, scribbled on her little note pad and walked away.

Dean raised his hands to his face and rubbed his weary eyes and adjusted himself comfortably in the booth he was sitting in. He let his head rest on top of his callused palms and exhaled forcefully.

“Long day?” Gabriel piped suddenly.

“Holy Christ!” Dean’s head jerked up and his body tensed as he set his eyes upon Gabriel sitting across from him.

“I’m guessing the lamp worked out for you then,” Gabriel said smugly.

“Oh yeah, it worked great. Now, thanks impart to you, I’m executing ‘ _operation avoid all things Sam and Cas_ ‘.”

“Well you’re welcome,” Gabriel pinched part of his shirt and pulled it proudly. 

“No, that isn’t-,” the waitress returned with Dean’s pie and placed it in front of him along with silverware amusingly wrapped in a napkin. 

“Would your friend like something too?” She flashed a smile at Gabriel.

“Why yes I would-.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Dean cut in. 

The waitress raised her eyebrows and tapped her pen against her little notepad. “Okay, well, if you need me just wave.”

“You rude, bastard,” Gabriel stuck a finger in Dean’s pie.

“Hey!” Dean sat open mouthed, the wrinkles of his forehead resembling little streams.

“I was hungry!” Gabriel stuck his cream covered finger into his mouth. 

“I can’t eat this now! It’s all ruined with nasty angel germs!” Dean cringed his nose.

“Despite my reputation,” Gabriel pointed his sticky finger at Dean. “I do not have germs.”

They both smiled.

“Hey, you should check out this place in Houston. It’s called _The Lair_ ,” Gabriel wagged an eyebrow. “It’s a pretty fun place.”

“Yeah, it totally sounds classy.”

“No, it’s really good. Beautiful girls, type of music you like, _strobe lights_ ,” he tongued his cheek.

“Really?” Dean began to cut a piece of his pie that had been unaffected by Gabriel’s finger. 

“No, it kind of sucks actually,” Gabriel tilted his head. “But I make it fun.”

“I thought so,” Dean shoved a small piece of the pastry into his mouth.

Their was a comfortable silence between them and then Dean smiled, and laughed quietly.

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“Were we just having a conversation?”

Gabriel smiled momentarily. “We were doing something.”

&&&

  
Castiel sat in the middle of the bed, his knees brought up to his chest where he could comfortably rest his chin.

He had changed out of his wet clothes and dumped them into the bathroom. Then he had turned on the T.V. to drown out the clattering silence.

He felt sick, nauseated to be specific. He hadn’t felt like that since he had eaten over a thousand White Castle burgers than one Valentine’s Day. But this sickness wasn’t caused by burgers, and it would be unfair to say that Sam had caused it, because he hadn’t. _Not really._

That ache Castiel felt was deep down in his stomach. It felt like a fluttering, he couldn’t quite word the feeling but he had felt it before.

The first time he had seen Dean.

Castiel raised his head up in realization. The feeling was like _butterflies_ ; butterflies in his stomach.

He suddenly felt like vomiting, but then he heard the creak of the door being pushed open.

Dean walked in and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” Dean shut the door softly behind him. “What’s up?”

“Just watching T.V.,” Castiel looked everywhere _but_ directly at Dean.

“I thought you hated T.V.,” Dean shook off his jacket and it landed heavily on the floor.

“I do.”

Dean moved closer to the bed and removed the layers of clothes he still had on; shirts and under shirts and jeans that covered him up almost to well.

He was left in his boxers and as he final reached the bed, he let himself slide next to Castiel gently.

Dean placed a kiss on Castiel’s neck and then rested his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“Do you want to just go to sleep?” Dean tried to divert any possibility of questioning for the night.

Which, in his book, was the act of a guilty man. Still, Dean wanted to get some rest with the one person he knew who could bring him peace.

Before Cas could anwser, the door creaked open again and Sam stepped through.

“Cas, I just wanted to say sorry-,” Sam stopped abruptly. “Uh, never mind.”

Sam backed out and shut the door rapidly, Dean looked confused as he turned to face Castiel.

“What was he talking about?”

“Oh,” Castiel began to push himself under the covers of the bed. “He said some things about you, when you were gone. His words upset me.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what upset you?”

The tables had turned, Dean was asking the annoying questions and Castiel was the one diverting them. Castiel was better at it than Dean though, he could tell. The guy had only been human for seven months and he was better at skirting things than the fucking master of _skirting_.

Dean believed him; that nothing much had been said. That nothing terribly important had happened when he had left to take a breather.

What he didn’t know was that tonight was just the tip of the iceberg.

&&&

When Sam got back to his room, he barged into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the small mirror.

His hair was too long, his nose was kind of pointy, he had this little _mole_ thing to the left of his pointy _Pinocchio_ nose!

Sam flared his nostrils. Usually, when frustrated, Sam’s mind would morph into a self-conscious twelve year old girl.

He couldn’t help but smile a little, though. He couldn’t help but remember the taste of Castiel’s lips. He couldn’t help but remember that first touch.

Sam sauntered back into the room and let himself fall back onto his bed. He reached up to his chest and brought a piece of his shirt to his nose.

He inhaled the scent that had embedded itself there. It was a simple smell, distinguishable from Sam’s own aroma.

It smelled like rain and air that had just blown over a meadow. It smelled like a library, like books and the pages within those books; like history and memories.

Sam clutched his shirt. It smelled like _Castiel_.

He would fall asleep that way, with his hand closed tightly over his chest. And later, when he would be stumbling around lost in the darkness of his dreams, he would see Castiel sitting at a table hunched over a book, shining so brightly that Sam would have to shield his eyes.

Castiel would look up from the book and say, “Hi.”

And Sam would say, “Hey.”

Then the dream would end there and leave Sam yearning for more time. He would wake up, his hand sore from being fisted up for so long and his first coherent thought would be of Castiel and then the second would be to do something stupid and drastic. Which he would absolutely do just after he took a shower, dressed and found a location where he could carry out his plan.

&&&

The water poured over them, shamelessly falling in between intimate places where only they touched each other.

Dean pinned Castiel to the wall underneath the showerhead and sucked and bit at the spot that made Castiel dig his nails into Dean’s back.

Dean sort of liked that. That little bit of pain he would sustain from giving pleasure. It meant he was doing something right.

And everything would go slow when they made love. It was an _every time_ thing. Of course, this must’ve been like the thousandth time they’ve had sex and the two hundredth time they’ve had sex in a shower, but it would always be like the first time.

Which in all honesty, wouldn’t win the gold medal for sex moments, but Dean couldn’t deny that it hadn’t been special. It had been one of the happiest moments of his life; right up there with stopping the Apocalypse and saving Sammy from the Devil for good.

His life was full of highlight reels but only a few could rival his best memories, those of which sat at the highest shelf in his mind; protected by bullet proof glass, their original wrapping and, of course, motion censored lasers.

Dean pressed his hard erection into Castiel’s thigh and moaned into his mouth.

Castiel held him tighter and whispered his name, causing Dean to buck suddenly.

These moments were always so paralyzing and even though no one would come right out and say it, it was the pauses in between the ecstasies that would bring their world to ruins.

&&&

“How did you say you wanted it, son?” Jim the Barber asked.

Sam sat uncomfortably the leather padded barber’s chair, smock draped over him. “I said, cut it all off.”

Sam had closed his eyes during the entire process. He could hear the snipping of scissors and feel his hair fall onto his face and shoulders.

The barber would tell him to tilt his head a certain way, and then just position it the way he wanted it other times.

Sam would cringe almost every time he heard the scissors close down near his ear or when tiny hairs would float down onto his lips. He admitted to himself that he was acting like a child.

But squirming was a fair way to act, when a person hadn’t cut their hair for about _two years_.

Sam had asked the barber to style it for him and then barber asked him how he wanted it styled. Sam just shook his head, eyes still closed, face still slightly scrunched.

Sam could picture the barber shrugging and giving him a strange look. Who wouldn’t?

And then it was done. The barber gently brushed off Sam’s discarded hair and pulled the smock off of him.

“There you go, son. Would you like to look at yourself or would you just like to reach into your pocket, give me whatever’s in there and be on your way?”

Sam opened his eyes slowly, his nails dug fearfully into the arms of the barber’s chair.

_Fuck his life._

Jim the Barber had take a lot off the sides, but thankfully only trimmed the top. He had slicked it back with something extra greasy and had combed it in a way that Sam had never _ever_ combed it before.

Sam realized he as making the weirdest _'what the fuck did I just do?'_ face into the mirror.

Jim stared at him.

Sam cleared his throat and smiled.

“That’ll be thirteen dollars, son,” Jim held out his hand.

Sam paid the total, looked in the mirror one last time and then went.

He would never hear the end of this. He had paid someone to _butcher_ his hair! Not that he didn’t ask for it, but Jim could’ve been gentler.

 _Jesus Christ_.

Sam decided to walk back to the motel _the long way_ , which bought him some time before Dean killed him with _hilarious_ insults.

He ran a hand through his hair, and then remembered that maybe that wouldn’t be a good habit to have anymore unless he wanted greasy hands for the rest of his life.

When Sam finally got back to the motel, he headed first to Dean and Cas’ room to get over with anything ridicule he had in store.

He knocked twice, _loudly_. Sam didn’t want a repeat of what happened that one time back in Tupelo.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

That could mean two things. Either something was wrong or something was really good, as Dean had put it once, but Sam didn’t want to think about that, _at all_.

Sam opted for the former as he pushed the door open.

No one was in the room, but it seemed like Dean and Cas had done their packing. Their bags were all by the door and everything in the room was tidy. Sam looked around trying to spot something out of place, some sign that maybe something had happened in the room.

Suddenly the door to the bathroom flew open and Dean came out; gun drawn, his jeans barely hanging onto his hips.

“Whoa! Dean it’s me!” Sam put his hands up.

“Sam?”

“Uh, yeah,” he flared his hands out.

“What the hell happened to your hair?” Dean lowered his gun. “You look like a douche bag. I was going to shoot you.”

“Thanks,” Sam huffed.

“ _I_ like it,” Castiel stepped out from behind Dean, a towel wrapped around his waist.

 _So they were doing that_ , Sam thought bitterly.

“So, what the hell happened, Sammy?” Dean buttoned his jeans. “You stick your head into a blender,” Dean scoffed. “And then a grease bucket?”

“Fuck you,” Sam spat. “And thanks, Cas.”

“You look like a lawyer or something, little bro.” Dean walked over to his bag and fished out a shirt.

‘Well I would be a lawyer right now if you hadn’t-,” Sam mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, are we leaving?”

“Is your stuff packed, Mr. Greasy?” Dean asked sincerely.

Sam flipped Dean the bird and walked out.

&&&

Sam waited in the Impala for Dean and Cas to come out.

The pair finally emerged after awhile, Dean went to go check out and Cas climbed into the backseat.

“Hey,” Sam stared into the rearview mirror.

“Sam.”

Sam didn’t want to avoid what had happened between them, but he felt like maybe Castiel did.

Sam couldn’t blame him. Castiel had kind of cheated on Dean, but Sam could take the blame for that. And if it really came down to it, he _would_ take on whatever consequences would play out in the future.

“Did you tell him?” Sam blurted out; his words rapid and almost incoherent. He watched the rearview mirror intently.

Castiel furrowed his brow and then licked his lips. “No.”

His voice was very low, lower than usual and for the first time Sam felt guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Sam paused. “I didn’t mean to kiss you. It was just a thing.” He turned to face Castiel. “You looked like you, uh, needed it.”

That sounded better in his head.

“God,” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cas, don’t listen to me. I’m wording it all wrong-.”

“It was nice,” Castiel said, meekly

Sam felt the wind rush out of him, the Earth move, time stop, his heart swell, his muscles tighten, his senses hone, his _world_ brighten, his-.

“God, you look ugly,” Dean shook his head as he started the Impala. Sam whipped his head to the driver’s seat.

&&&

All requited feelings aside, there was still a job to do. But Sam couldn’t for the life of him focus on it.

Their next destination was Las Vegas. Dean had pumped a fist into the air when Sam told him that, and while his older brother was distracted he flashed a look at the rearview mirror.

Castiel was leaning against the window staring at the passing scenery and then when Sam least expected it, he too, passed his gaze over the mirror.

“Vegas,” Dean purred. “I like that. We should play some Blackjack when we get there, Sammy.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah.”

“What’s the case?” Castiel asked.

“Five people died when an elevator plummeted twenty floors _down_ ,” Sam read over the notes he had taken down from an article in the _Las Vegas Reporter_. “A witness said she saw six people enter the elevator, though. Authorities say she must’ve seen _wrong_.”

“Yeah, you know how that goes,” Dean quipped.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Castiel declared.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Dean asked.

“No, I just need to use the bathroom.”

“Do you want me to pull over?”

“I’d rather use a facility.”

“What did I say about formal speech?” Dean joked.

Castiel smirked. “It should only be used for my inner monolog .”

They pulled over at a gas station a mile later and Castiel practically jumped out of the car, leaving Sam and Dean alone.

A couple of beats of silence passed by and then Dean spoke. “Why did you want to apologize to Cas last night?”

Sam tried not to look nervous. Surely Dean had asked Castiel what Sam was trying to apologize for, and he had probably most likely had given him an answer.

But Sam and Castiel hadn’t exactly gotten together to collaborate stories. _And oh God, that sounded so guilty_. It had guilty written all over it.

Nothing had happened, _not really_. Right? Just a few kisses, and some touching, which Castiel had cut short. Sam was kind of thankful for that now.

He gave it a shot in the dark. “I said some stuff about you.”

Dean nodded. “What did you say about me, Sammy?”

“Uh, that you shouldn’t go off alone.” Sam tried not wince.

“I’m not a fucking baby, Sam,” Dean bit his lower lip. “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t talk shit about me in front of my own boyfriend.”

“I was just venting.”

“Yeah, well, don’t. It’s none of your business where I go and another thing, don’t follow me if I decide to go somewhere.” Dean pointed a threatening finger at Sam. “You do your thing and I’ll do mine. You don’t see me following you to the library!”

“Fuck you.” Sam would ironically take Dean’s advice.

He _would_ do his own thing, it just so happened that would involve Castiel.

&&&

The bright lights of the Las Vegas strip shone into the Impala and eclipsed over Sam’s face.

Dean’s eyes were wide in wonder, his mouth slightly open in awe. “Can you believe that in all my life of hunting, I’ve never been to Vegas?” He asked rhetorically.

The mountains of ascending neon lights seemed to go on forever, leading up to everything and everyplace. It made Sam think of the dreams he’d been having lately.

Dreams in which the man in the backseat was always the center of. In those dreams though, Castiel was still angel; bright as ever and buzzing with an essence stronger than the gravitational pull of the Sun.

Sam would find himself merely a silhouette next to the effulgence of his divine desire, but that would never stop him from reaching out a hand in temptation. A burning sensation would flood his body as he would near the source of his _want_ , but he would always wake up before any means of satisfaction would be reached.

Now that he had touched the object of his most hungriest of cravings momentarily, he found himself aroused with the thought that it might happen again.

That thought would never break away easy however. He would find himself lost in the reflection in the rearview mirror.

They had been driving for four hours straight and the idea of looking away never really presented itself to Sam.

Castiel would shyly pass his eyes over the mirror in controlled time periods, and Sam would note that the man’s cheeks would flush the lightest shade of crimson when he saw Sam looking back at him.

They were smitten and it was noticeable, but only to the most observant of people.

“I think we should get a motel, get some rest and start the case in the morning. That sound good to ya’ll?” Dean asked; oblivious.

&&&

Everyone had agreed to some rest and Sam, by allowance of Dean, hung out in the couple’s room for the night.

He had spread his research on the current case over their bed and pretended to go over it, all the while his eyes coveted his brother’s lover.

Sam concurred that he hated the stalemate he had reached. It had only been a day since his dreams had come true, but the bitterness that had so consequently followed the sweetness brought a rabid anger to his heart.

He looked over to his brother, whom he so whole heartedly had betrayed by tasting the forbidden fruit of the man’s poorly protected garden. Dean was watching T.V.; ‘Dr. Sexy’ Sam believed and he looked abnormally calm and distant as he lounged in one of the room’s ugly chairs.

Castiel was sitting Indian style at his feet playing Solitaire, something he often did after Dean had showed him the simple game.

And everything was still.

&&&

 _Lord knows I can’t change_ , Dean thought as he stared into the T.V.

It was a weird thought to be having he concluded. And he didn’t know exactly what it meant when it popped into his mind spontaneously just as he had been thinking of Castiel.

It was time for a reflection; time for an inner monolog of sorts. Something, he assumed everyone else was having because no one was talking.

Dean let his eyes drift over towards his brother, who was sitting atop his bed trying to act normal; trying to do normal ' _Sam_ ' things but wasn’t succeeding in the action.

He would notice how sometimes Sam would stare over for long periods of time and become so still that it was hard to tell if he was even breathing.

And maybe he wasn’t.

Dean then pointed his gaze towards Castiel below him, whose back gently rested against his legs.

Dean himself stopped breathing, but only for a second and then resumed to act as though nothing had been realized.

 _It’s nothing_ , he thought. Nothing.

_Or something, that would never happen._

He didn’t even want to think it, because Cas would never do that to him.

No. Never. Not in a million _million_ years.

But what if Dean wasn’t in the equation? What if they weren’t together? What would happen then to the angel turned human who had devoted his life to him?

“I’m going to get some pie,” Dean said abruptly and stood up.

Castiel looked up at him and then scooted forward to let him pass.

Dean collected his jacket and looked over to his brother.

“Is that okay with you, Sammy?” He said arrogantly.

“Do whatever you want, Dean,” Sam replied, a nonchalant undertone sustaining his response.

Dean felt like a busted guitar string; pulled so tight, the sound of its snapping would deafen everyone in the hundred mile radius.

He had felt this feeling before. It was around the time of the impending Apocalypse, when everything seemed bleak and dead and gray and hopeless.

He had felt like he could never be who he used to be, like his relationship with his brother would never be the same, and like he had dug himself into a hole which had turned itself into quicksand.

Now as he started the Impala and prepared to metaphorically run away from the people he cared about most, he understood that no matter how much it had seemed he had changed he really hadn’t.

So the question wasn’t, ‘Who was he?’ but ‘Who is he?’, because his persona hadn’t disappeared it had purely disguised itself as something else.

For a long time before the Apocalypse was prevented, Dean had stopped caring about anything; nothing mattered because they were all going to die, regardless.

Which wasn’t anything like him, and everyone could tell.

But as soon as hope presented itself, Dean basked within it and came out with the first thing he had been repressing; his love for Castiel.

When all was said and done, he found himself with a boyfriend and a somewhat back to normal life.

Dean didn’t have time for a character study, but if he had to sum up his life it would be something like this: soldier, brother, lover, and _liar_.

He was lying to himself.

He wanted everyone he loved to stay with him and never leave him, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough and he didn’t know why.

For a long time, for as long as he could remember actually, all he ever wanted was his loved ones near him; solely, totally, and completely around him, just for him.

Now he had just that, and it wasn’t enough.

He had the love of a great man and the love of his brother, what more could he want?

Driving around Sin City brought him no answers, he was just as conflicted as he had been seven months ago.

 

&&&

 

Everything was internal and human, Castiel supposed; how he felt, where his emotional pain came from, where his lust for Sam had spawned.

Dean had just left, not even five minutes ago, when Castiel found himself walking over to the bed where Sam was sitting and he stood before the younger Winchester; waiting.

Sam didn’t need a hint as he dropped the papers he held in his hands and twisted his fingers into the belt loop’s of Castiel’s jeans, pulling him forward.

As Castiel stepped towards him, Sam allowed his hands to run over the smaller man’s stomach, pushing up his shirt.

Sam’s hands were warm against Castiel’s flesh, yet callused and rough. Castiel could feel how they were trying to be tender as they made their way to his hips, massaging every inch of his skin on their way.

As Sam pulled him even closer, he shot his eyes upwards and then unfastened the button of Castiel‘s pants in one swift movement.

Castiel could feel his pants being loosened and the cold softness of lips being pressed against his abdomen. He let his hands run through Sam’s hair, the oily slickness of it made him laugh a little and Sam whispered an apology between the kisses he was delivering to Castiel’s stomach.

Sam began to tug at Castiel’s jeans.

Fear was benign but ever present, and Castiel couldn’t help but tremble as Sam made tiny circles with his tongue just under his belly button.

And everything began to rush out of him; his breath, his strength, his sanity.

He wanted it all to pour out onto the floor; how he felt neglected and never said anything about it. How he felt like a suction cup on the face of the _Mister Dean Winchester_. How perfection was falling apart.

How perfection was right in front of him, desperately wanting more of him. How he was to afraid to give it to him.

Castiel slapped Sam’s hands away and pushed him back by the shoulders, and exhaled like he had been holding his breath the whole time.

Sam looked shocked and hurt and every sense of the word confused.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel offered.

“No,” Sam said slowly. “I don’t want to rush anything.”

Castiel let himself sit next to Sam on the edge of the bed and turned to look him in the eyes.

“Can I admit something?”

Sam furrowed his brow and managed a unsure nod.

“Okay,” he took a deep breath. “There are a whole number of words I could use to describe the way I feel about you.” Castiel paused, licked his lips and continued. “But there are the same amount of things I could say about, Dean.”

Castiel could see sunset in Sam’s eyes; a light went dark within him.

Sam nodded, a dazed look in his eye. “So you don’t want to do this?”

“Don’t make me answer that,” Castiel closed the space between them and sealed it with a kiss.

&&&

Dean parked the Impala and decided to walk. _Somewhere_.

Nowhere in particular, just along the strip. Taking in the lights and the majesty of every towering building.

He always thought that if he ever made his way to Vegas, he’d at least get to gamble a bit. Nothing was stopping him, nothing except for the insane angst surging through his body. And everyone knows you can’t play Texas Hold ‘Em when your contemplating your whole life _thus far_.

Tourists were everywhere, snapping photos of everything. Dean could swear he saw a few pictures taken of sleeping hobo’s, which was altogether random.

Dean began to feel claustrophobic as the crowds of people began to swell up around him. Bright happy people were pushing their way past him without so much as an ‘excuse me’.

He was never one to have panic attacks but considering his fragile state of current enlightenment--God he felt like a pussy.

All types of people were knocking him out of the way, like he was traveling in the wrong direction.

 _Well_ , he thought. _No one gave me the fucking map to Rightdirectionsville_.

He was drowning in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Except for one.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean jumped back a little as Gabriel appeared before him.

“Hi there,” the arrogant confidence behind the greeting seemed to calm Dean.

“Gabriel, what the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“Committing every sinful act known to man,” he smiled.

Dean mocked laughter. “I mean besides the usual. How the hell do you keep finding me?”

Gabriel crossed his arms. “Cas is on my radar; which means you’re never far away.”

“Right,” Dean sighed.

“Uh oh,” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“None of your business.”

“So, I take it you don’t want my help with the job you got going?”

“I never want your help.”

Gabriel snorted. “Too late.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, the ghost haunting the building you were looking into was ganked.”

Dean shook his head. “By who?”

Gabriel shrugged.

“Oh, right, like you don’t know,” Dean tilted his head.

“I thought you could use a vacation, so shoot me!”

“No problem.”

Gabriel smiled. “You _do_ need a vacation, you know that?”

 _Yes_ , Dean knew he needed a vacation. He just wasn’t entirely sure how to feel when it was Gabriel granting him the possibility of one.

“It’s Vegas,” Gabriel slapped Dean on the shoulder. “You should be gambling or wasting money on strippers!”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Gabriel tilted his head. “Dean Winchester, _not in the mood?_ “

Dean nodded slowly and shrugged.

There was a silence between them and it looked as though Gabriel was struggling with the idea of whether to ask Dean what was _really_ wrong with him or not.

“We should gamble,” Gabriel settled for instead of a more awkward conversation turn.

Dean said nothing.

“Oh, _come on_ ,” Gabriel begged. “If you really don’t feel like gambling, you could always just watch me gamble,” he wagged an eyebrow.

“You’d like that,” Dean smirked.

“I really would.”

&&&

There would be another instance where Sam would try to touch Castiel below the belt, and Castiel would continue to push his hands away like a virginal teenage girl.

Sam would breathe out in frustration and apologize once more and reluctantly move his hands to Castiel’s waist.

Sam had removed his own shirt and had unbuttoned his jeans in hopes that something more would happen between them, but the way things were going, it seemed like he was back in high school; pushing for a home run with no luck.

They were entangled in each others arms, shamelessly sucking at each others necks and ears and lips and if they were in a car the windows would be dripping with perspiration and the heat would make their clothes way too constricting.

At some point, Sam had pushed Castiel down onto the bed and had began to thrust into his groin, which drew moans from the man beneath him. He could picture clearly what it would be like to make love to him, which made Sam feel more out of his mind with need.

Even with his pants unbuttoned and loose, they felt too tight and obstructing. After a while, most of his moaning stemmed from his sexual frustration.

Castiel’s legs were only spread so far apart, and _his_ jeans kept Sam from feeling anything other than pressure against his erection.

“Can you touch me?” Sam growled into Castiel’s ear, moving the man’s hand inside his pants. “Just a little.”

Sam led his hand in between their groins and inside his pants; past his boxers.

He placed Castiel’s hand over his cock and then moved his own hands up to Castiel’s face.

“Please,” Sam begged. “ _Touch me_.

Castiel tightened his hand around Sam and began to stoke him slowly; teasingly. And Sam pushed himself into the tight grip with every movement and bit into his neck, following it with a soft kiss.

Castiel would run his thumb over the tip in circular motions and Sam bucked suddenly and emited a throated groan.

“Faster,” Sam choked out as he tangled his hands in Castiel’s hair.

And Castiel did as he was asked.

He wanted to send Sam over the edge and himself hurling afterward.

Castiel felt himself falling for a second time in his life as he lay beneath the brother of his greatest love.

Perpetual descent was always so profound and enticing.

&&&

“I could get us back in,” Gabriel pointed at the casino quickly falling behind them as they hurried some place else.

“No,” Dean looked over his shoulder; paranoid. “I think we’ve had enough seedy gambling for one night and _eighty grand_ is definitely more than enough to cap off a night.”

Dean jogged across the street towards the block where he had parked his car.

“Slow down,” Gabriel followed. “Even if those guys decide to jump us, they’re just humans.”

“Yeah, who probably have guns.”

The Impala was insight and Dean breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was in the exact condition he had left it in; immaculate.

“Thank God,” Dean pulled out his keys and slowed his pace.

“You can have it,” Gabriel was carrying his winnings in a small bag and holding them out to Dean as they both reached the car.

Dean turned slowly and twirled his keys in his fingers. He set his eyes upon the small bag and licked his lips. Gabriel took a step forward and placed the bag on the hood of the Impala.

“No,” Dean shook a hand towards the angel. “I can’t take that.”

“Sure you can,” Gabriel smiled and motioned to the sack. “Why do I need it anyway?”

“You won it,” Dean said pointedly and blinked his eyes repeatedly to emphasize his statement.

“Yeah, now I’m giving it to you.”

“I really can’t,” Dean shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting up forming the beginning of a nervous smile.

“Consider it a payment for being my good luck charm,” Gabriel said suavely.

“Don’t say that,” Dean bit.

“Why not?”

“Because, those are flirting words,” he gritted his teeth. “I know, I’ve used them before.”

“How’d they work out for you?”

“Listen,” Dean looked down at his boots; uncomfortably. “I should go.”

“Come here.”

The demand wasn’t forceful in tone and the way Gabriel stood relaxed before Dean, it seemed like he hadn’t said it at all.

For a moment afterward, Dean believed he hadn’t heard it. Like he wanted the demand to float away in the air, but some things were hard to ignore.

“I can’t,” Dean said, trying not to look into Gabriel’s eyes.

“I said, come here, _**now**_.”

Dean’s heart was beating like the cadence of a heavy metal song, and as he stepped closer to Gabriel, he swallowed hard.

He was expecting to happen next, what actually _happened_ next.

Gabriel looked up at Dean, the hint of a smile nowhere in sight, and Dean looked down at him waiting for him to make the first move.

Gabriel lifted his hand and placed it on the back of Dean’s head and pulled him down slowly.

Dean didn’t want to be responsible for this. _He_ couldn’t be responsible for this. He could blame it all on Gabriel, like this very scenario could be construed into sexual harassment later.

It wouldn’t be fair, but everyone would understand. Right?

Dean didn’t want to say he _wanted_ this.

Gabriel’s lips were soft and different. They were less full than Castiel’s, but more experienced; like Dean’s own.

Dean relaxed himself in Gabriel’s hold and let himself enjoy-.

“Oh, _fuck me_ ,” Dean pushed Gabriel back firmly, his face riddled with confusion and regret.

“You taste like cinnamon,” Gabriel whispered as he brushed his thumb over his lips and shoved it into his mouth.

&&&

Dean shot out of there like a bat out of Hell and kept his foot down hard on the accelerator of the Impala.

He slammed a fist into the steering wheel and cussed loudly.

Dean had felt something-- _felt something_ \--in that kiss.

And all he could feel now was anxious, guilty, sorry, pissed off, and _horny_.

Dean groaned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_____

And if you want to know what Sam's new hair cut looks like click [HERE](http://i1020.photobucket.com/albums/af321/Bleeding10Silver/Jared.jpg) Bad, Y/N?  



	2. Lexicon of a Liaison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out. Brothers fight. Gabriel gives advice.

Sam was fully gone by the time he came hard into Castiel’s hand. 

His heart had been beating faster than a jackhammer and all coherent thought appeared to be way _way_ far away from where he was. 

He was drenched in his own sweat and completely numb when Castiel slid from under him. 

“I’m going to wash my hands,” Castiel said as he sat up.

“Wait,” Sam sat up, grabbing Castiel by the arm. His head felt swimmy; the effects of his intense orgasm. 

Sam starred into Castiel’s eyes, which were heavy and half-lidded and kissed him.

“I love you,” he said simply. 

Things were silent for a long while and the grip Sam had on Castiel’s arm seemed to tighten, but only briefly.

Castiel could only stare back at Sam, unable to reply or return the proclamation.

Sam never blinked, not once, as he waited.

“I’m going to wash my hands,” Castiel stood up just as the knob on the motel room door began to turn.

“ _Shit_ ,” Sam cussed as he stood up rapidly.

His mind went blank as he spun around once in search of his shirt.

The door had been locked, which had bought Sam some time. Castiel was already pretty much presentable after he found Sam’s shirt underneath him and wiped his hands on it. He then handed it back to Sam, apologetically.

Sam wrinkled his nose and threw up his hands. “What do I do?”

“The bathroom,” Castiel whispered as his gaze darted between the door and Sam. “Go!”

The motel room door opened just as soon as Sam threw himself into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. 

He ended up landing in the shower, pulling the curtain down with him and having smacked his head against one of the tiled walls.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked as he pulled out his key from the door knob.

Castiel shrugged. “Sam ate some taco’s. He’s been feeling sick all night.”

“That’s gross,” Dean shut the door behind him and walked over to Castiel. “What have you been up to?”

Castiel scooted over as Dean sat on the bed. 

“Just researching some stuff.”

“You look kind of out of it,” Dean furrowed his brow and looked over him.

“I’m tired,” Castiel fake yawned, which ended up turning into a real yawn. 

“Really?” Dean slid his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck and placed a kiss just next to his Adam’s apple. “I thought, we could have sex before bed.” 

Dean’s tongue snaked out from his mouth and found itself whipping over the his lover’s earlobe. He sucked at it and moved his hand to unbutton his own pants. Just then, Dean heard the toilet from the bathroom flush and Sam walk out, his shirt slightly wrinkled.

Dean sighed and threw a nasty look at his brother.

It was a look Sam knew well. It meant, _‘Get the fuck out, I want to fuck my boyfriend and you’re being a creepy voyeuristic loser!’_

At this point, Sam could say a million different things to that look. One of them being the poisonous, _‘Well, your boyfriend just jacked me off. So, you might want to revaluate your priorities.’_

But all Sam managed was, “Hi, Dean. Bye, Cas.” 

Out of his peripheral vision Sam could see Castiel eyeing him as Dean continued to suck on his neck.

Sam grinned and just before he closed the door on himself, he threw a wink at the man focusing on him.

&&&

Castiel could always tell the difference between when Dean was making love to him and when Dean was fucking him.

The latter was always more primal; forceful and heated. 

Dean would waste no time with kisses or caresses or any of the tender things Castiel liked most about the beginning of sex. 

He would cut through their clothes; sending buttons flying and causing pants to rip at their zipper from the speed he would exert from trying to unzip them. He would then quickly turn Castiel onto his stomach-whose boxers and jeans would only be half way down around his thighs-and he would force himself inside the man; pinning his hands to the bed and muffling his own moans into Castiel’s back. 

The sex was sloppy, and Dean’s thrusts were quick and mostly to his pleasure. 

He would bite into Castiel’s back and choke out jumbled sentences with no meaning.

Castiel pressed his face into the mattress, his hands digging into the bed sheet.

_It didn’t feel bad_ , he convinced himself. Sex with Dean was never _bad_ ; right now, it was just _disconnected_.

It could be anyone lying under the hunter and the hunter wouldn’t really care. _At least_ , that’s how he made it feel. 

Where there was discord, there was harmony. As unjustified as adultery was, Castiel couldn’t help but be thankful that Sam was with him. 

He was thankful that Sam that could love him even under the circumstances, and it was his wish to love Sam properly in return. To give him what he always gave to Dean, which was always was appreciated in words but never in actions. 

Things seemed so tangled and confusing; unbearably human and to the point where every emotional feeling felt new to Castiel, like it did seven months ago. 

Dean let all his weight bear down on Castiel as he pushed deeper inside of him. 

Castiel closed his eyes, and let everything drown out except for the thoughts of the man next door. 

With Dean’s breaths humming in his ear, he pictured Sam. Sam’s strong arms holding him down; sucking on his neck and thrusting into him with not only lust but loving desire. 

Sam’s rough hands running up and down the sides of his stomach and the finding their way down to his cock. Where they would eagerly wrap around him and stroke him softly, taunting him to the point of blissful wreckage and abandonment. 

If everything could just fall away; if everything could just be right and _perfect_ and-.

“ _ **Sam**_ ,” Castiel whispered into the bed; his eyes closed and his mind so damn _warped_ from his fantasy.

“What?” Dean stopped; his voice drained.

Castiel’s heart palpitated, his eyes shot open and his body tensed. 

Dean pushed himself off of the man. “What did you say?” 

Castiel began to sit up slowly, fear welling under his chest. 

He met Dean’s eyes; fire burning beneath the hunter’s weary pupils, venom spread across his sneering lips. 

Castiel shook his head, his own eyes tearing up in apology. 

Dean’s chest heaved and his nostrils flared. With his jeans hung loosely around his waist he marched towards the door.

“Dean!” Castiel called after him, quickly trying to do up his own pants. 

&&&

Sam had the T.V. on full volume. He was sitting on the bed, his back slumped on the wall behind him, when Dean stormed in.

_Stormed_ was actually a tame way to put it. It was more like _’kick the fuckin’ door open and charge towards Sam’_ , but who’s keeping details?

Before Sam realized what was happening, Dean had grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him up.

“Did you fuck him?!” Dean jerked Sam forward. “Huh?! Did you?! You _fucking bastard_!” 

Dean drew back a fist and jabbed Sam in the face, sending him falling backwards. 

“You son of a bitch!” Dean brought his foot down on Sam’s knee.

“Ow!” Sam yelled out, his hands over his bleeding nose.

“Did you fuck him?!” Dean kicked him again. “Did you?!”

“Dean,” Castiel bellowed from the doorway. “Dean, stop!”

“Get off me!” Sam pushed Dean back and rose to his feet, the blood from his nose dripping down his mouth. 

Dean swayed. “Come on, _Sam_ , tell me. I want to hear it!”

“Hear what?” Sam asked calmly as he wiped his hand over his mouth. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Dean growled from behind his teeth. 

“Dean,” Castiel spoke lowly. “Nothing happened.”

“Shut up!” Dean whipped his head to face his him. “I want to hear it from him!”

Dean turned slowly to Sam. “ _Sam_?”

Sam’s eyes darted from Dean to Castiel. 

It’s funny what you think about in tough situations or what you do in tight spots. You could go the easy route--which in Sam’s case wouldn’t help at all--and tell the truth. It would probably just earn him a pummeling and a beating so severe he would most likely suffer a concussion. He wouldn’t fight it, because _he deserved it_.

As much as he wanted Castiel, he still betrayed his brother. Sam was prepared for the consequences if it earned him what he wanted most. 

Castiel’s face was stone; completely unreadable. His eyes, however, were a different story. 

“Don’t look at him!” Dean jerked Sam forward by his shirt again. “You look at me!”

Sam shoved Dean. “Let go! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh, _right_ , you don’t know. Did he blow you? _Hm_?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “He’s pretty good at that.”

“Shut up-shut _the fuck_ up--okay?” Sam licked his lips. “ _Nothing_ happened, Dean. I don’t know where you _got_ that idea,” he laughed nervously. “But nothing happened between me and Cas.”

Dean nodded, his face pinched. “Okay, whatever.” 

Sam took a deep breath and shot a look towards Castiel. 

The eldest Winchester huffed, shook his head and pushed past the man in the doorway.

“Dean,” Castiel tried to catch his arm as he pushed by. 

“Don’t,” Dean bit.

Sam looked down at his hand. The blood that covered it had dried and turned a dark shade of red. He could hear the door to the next room slam and as he made his hand into a fist, he made sure his nails dug deep into his palm

“Are you going to tell him now?” Sam asked, looking up from under his sullen brow to Castiel.

Castiel blinked and tears began to fall from his eyes.

&&&

Dean put his fist through a wall and sucked in a quick breath. 

“Dean,” Castiel whispered as he entered the room.

The hunter withdrew his hand from the wall; his knuckles scratched and bleeding slightly. 

“Nothing happened,” Castiel tried. 

Dean stayed quiet, focusing on his wounded hand. 

“It’s just,” Castiel licked his lips. “I’ve been spending a lot of _time_ with Sam and it slipped out.”

“ _Don’t lie to me! It just makes us both look stupid, Cas_!” Dean roared. 

Castiel flinched.

_There was no fixing it_ , he thought solemnly.

Out of all the moments--the instances, the miniscule pieces of infinite time they had shared together--this is what it came down to. 

He took a step towards the hunter. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel reach out a hand to Dean. 

Dean let himself relax; he let Castiel touch him. 

The touch was cold, something it hadn’t been before. Castiel’s hand wrapped around his forearm and pulled him forward; the gesture being met with a kiss.

Castiel pressed his lips hard against Dean’s, and tried to erase the hurt. Dean fell into it; easier than Sunday morning. 

It was euphoric--just like a little bit of Novocain--and everything vanished for a moment, until they finally hit the ground.

‘Stop,” Dean broke the kiss with a whisper.

“You taste different,” Castiel tilted his head, his face a complicated mess.

“I’ve been seeing Gabriel,” Dean let out. “Not _seeing_ him-seeing him, but, you know, _seeing him_.”

“What?”

“I kissed him,” Dean sucked in a breath. He wanted that one _to hurt_ ; like Hell.

“What?”

“I’m not going to lie to you,” he shrugged. “I just _can’t_.”

Castiel couldn’t find words. It wasn’t like anything he could say could fix anything anyway.

“Gabriel’s here?”

“He sort of follows us.”

“And you and _he_ -.”

Dean nodded.

“I gave you _everything_ ,” Castiel rasped. 

The levee’s seemed to break with those words. All the control that Castiel had over holding his tongue towards the issue disappeared.

“I pulled you out of _Hell_! I rebelled for _you_!” 

He was yelling now; letting out the unsaid things that he had held back for so long. 

Castiel jabbed a finger into Dean’s shoulder. 

“I gave up _Heaven_! My _Grace_! My _everything_ , because I **loved** you too much!” 

“That’s not love, Cas,” Dean exhaled slowly. “That’s sacrifice. 

“It’s only sacrifice if the person you love, wouldn’t do the same.”

Things became still; yet the tension remained thick in the air..

Dean let himself lean upon the wall he had put his fist through and Castiel stood motionless in front of him. 

Castiel stared at the floor for a long while. He studied the room’s ugly green carpet and tried to push back the tears that seemed to be flooding his eyes. It was nothing but a losing battle.

He lifted his head slowly, causing the once restrained tears to fall shamelessly down his cheeks.

“What do we do now?” He asked, because he truly did not know.

“We get over it,” Dean replied flatly. 

Castiel nodded, turned towards the door and left.

&&&

Sam stared into the bathroom mirror, his face beginning to swell. 

Crumbled pieces of toilet paper covered in blood littered the sink and floor and as he grazed his swollen nose with his fingertips, the door to the room squeaked open.

Sam craned his head out fully expecting Castiel to walk through the doorway.

Instead a familiar figure stepped into the room; their swagger hesitant and delayed.

“Did you come back for round two? Sam asked bitterly.

Dean’s face was placid, though his eyes were heavy and darkened just below his lower eyelashes.

_He looks older_ , Sam observed. The whirlwind chain of events that had spread out over the course of mere days seemed to age Dean fatally. Sam suspected that it would take an even longer amount of time for their wounds to completely heal. That was, of course, if they would be blessed with such a comfort. 

But given their track record, it was a fool’s dream.

Sam’s chest rose and fell and rose again. Only the sound of breathing filled the room as the two men stood before each other in silence. 

“How could you do that to me, Sammy?” Dean’s voice shattered the quietness.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head and tried to shake away the tears from his tired eyes.

“How could you?” His voice cracked.

Sam’s throat begin to feel dry and strained. “I’m sorry.”

“Quit saying you’re sorry! That doesn’t fix _shit_!” Dean thundered. 

Sam jerked. “What do you want me to say then? Hm? It just _happened_.”

“So, something _did_ happen?” Dean swallowed. 

“Of course it did, Dean.”

Dean flinched at those words and then refused to hold back the tears that craved to be let loose. He shut his eyes tightly; dwelling on his brother’s words.

“Do you know what it was like for Cas, Dean?” Sam’s words pierced much more than the air with their spitefulness.

“Do you what he’s been going through? Do you ask? Can you even _see_ what you put him through, Dean? Did you ever, for a moment, stop and think about him when you leave?”

Dean’s eyes remained closed, his mouth drawn downward into a twisted frown. The lines at the corners of his mouth began to twitch sporadically with each question Sam darted towards him. 

“It’s like you don’t even care about him, Dean,” Sam shook his head. 

Dean opened his mouth slightly; his lips parted, words teetering on their soft pink edges. 

“Quit saying my name like that,” he said faintly. “You’re never around, _**Dean**_. Can’t you see what you’re doing to him, _**Dean**_?” He mocked. 

“You’re not even listening to what I’m saying, are you?” Horizontal lines ran across Sam’s forehead, concern defining every one of them. 

Dean shook his head. “I can’t see you with him, Sam. It’s-it’s not going to be _okay_. It’s never going to _be_ okay.”

“I’m not going to give him up,” Sam stated.

“Neither am I,” Dean said through his teeth. 

Sam threw his hands up. “Then how is this going to go? Hm? Are we going to _share_?”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t know what to do either, alright? I didn’t mean to-.”

Dean held up a finger. “Don’t say you fell in love him. Spare me that.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“Does he love you?” 

“I don’t know, but we need to fix this,” Sam bypassed Dean’s pointed question.

“There is no fixing this,” Dean’s face twitched.

“So this means you’re not going to trust me anymore? At all?” Sam shifted his weight foot to foot as the question left his mouth. He was totally and completely afraid of the answer his older brother might give him; scared that it might seal their future irrevocably.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean let his head tilt condescendingly. “We both know I haven’t trusted you _in a long time_.” 

 

&&&

Castiel didn’t know where to start looking. 

He was pretty sure the only way Gabriel had found them, had been because he wasn’t cloaked with Enochian sigils. But still, the archangel had to have been keeping a pretty close watch on their every move to be able to follow them so successfully.

Castiel didn’t exactly know what he was going to do when he left the motel. He tried to rationalize his thoughts; many of which were thoughts of _strangling_ his brother, but he stood no chance at that. And it would also be wrong.

“Gabriel! You son of a bitch!” He yelled at the night sky.

He was surrounded by woods, the steady drone of the highway distant from where he stood. 

“Gabriel! Get down here!” Castiel tried. “I know you can hear me!”

“You _rang_?” 

Castiel turned to find Gabriel standing casually behind him, an unconcerned look on his face.

“You’re an asshole,” Castiel rasped from under his brow. 

Gabriel hissed. “Uh-oh, the wife found out.”

Castiel charged towards him, but Gabriel drew up his hand and held him back with a phantom force. 

“Now, little brother, don’t try anything stupid.”

“How could you?” Castiel shook his head. “Never mind, of course you could do something like this.”

“Excuse me? How could _I_ do something like that?” Gabriel tilted his head, a rare seriousness spread across his face. “How about you?”

Castiel clenched his jaw.

“Yeah, that’s right. Don’t think I can’t smell Sam Winchester’s _stink_ all over you,“ Gabriel laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Everyone seems to think I’m this rotten bastard--well, I kind of am--but I digress. I’m no different than the rest of you assholes,” he continued. “Especially you, with your _‘Holier than thou‘_ complex. So quit throwing stones.”

Castiel hated to admit it, but Gabriel was right. It had come into light that everyone was just as guilty as the next, and everyone seemed to be calling the other out on that fact. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Castiel faltered. 

“ _Shit_ , does anyone?” Gabriel scratched his head. “I mean, it’s a nice little _attractive_ square we’ve seemed to tangle ourselves into but-.”

Gabriel observed his brother, who seemed to be lost in thought.

“I’m sorry, baby brother,” he offered.

“It’s not your fault. This has _been_ happening long before you _happened_.”

“You’ve been steppin’ out on your man for a while now?”

“What? _No_ ,” Castiel sighed. “We’ve been drifting apart for a long time.”

“I know,” Gabriel said lowly.

An uneasy silence passed between them.

“What do you want, Cas?” Gabriel questioned suddenly.

Castiel didn’t know how to answer at first, but after some thought, “I want them both.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Brother, that’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel said irritated. 

“Okay, I know you’re confused,” Gabriel put up his hands. “But think seriously about this. Who do you want?”

 

&&&

Dean had left after making his answer pretty clear and Sam had fallen back onto his bed; stunned. 

After everything: Ruby, demon blood, _being Lucifer’s_ vessel, this is what nailed the final nail in the coffin. Or at least that’s how the words had struck him. 

Sam had faith that things would straighten out. They had to, things couldn’t be left like they were. He didn’t have any idea how their situation would be if they didn’t resolve their problems, no idea at all. 

“Sam,” a recognizable voice spread over the darkness of the room, a hint of fatigue mixed with a gentle sadness followed it. 

Sam sat up from the bed, his wide shoulders drooped as he turned to Castiel’s figure in the doorway.

“Cas,” he whispered softly. “What are you-. I thought you were with Dean or-.”

“No,” Castiel cut him off, his body lazily leaning against the door frame. “I came back to you.” 

“You did?” Sam could hardly believe it to be quite honest.

Despite how much he wanted it to happen, he never thought it would actually happen. 

Castiel nodded and slid into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“I love Dean, you know,” Castiel’s gazed drifted off to meet Sam’s.

Sam took a deep breath, “I know.” He shut his eyes and exhaled.

“I love you, too,” Castiel moved closer to the bed.

Sam’s eyes came open. “ _Really?_ “

“Yes,” Castiel slid next to Sam on the bed, leaning into the side of him for support.  
Sam didn’t know what to say next, his focus turned to Castiel sitting near him. Their shoulders touching, sharing heat and personal space. 

Sam had been closer to the man before, but there had been something impersonal about that. This was simpler; an innocent sensuality that wasn’t clouded by dense desire. 

Castiel turned his head slowly, leaving it inches in front of Sam’s face. His breath slowly slinked out between them, and Sam could feel it brush against his lips. 

Again he would long to taste the ex-angel, who seemed even more divine plainly human than the celestial creature he used to be. 

Castiel leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam’s, as if they knew instinctively what the other man wanted. 

Sam let his hand rest on Castiel’s leg and fell graciously into the kiss, letting it deepen and lead him away from reality. 

Reality refused to be ignored and pushed aside.

“Cas,” Sam broke the kiss and tried without result to hold his words. “What about Dean? I mean, I know he _knows_ , but that doesn’t change the deep shit we’re in.”

Castiel stared back at him, his eyes half lidded, his mouth still parted from the broken kiss. “I think it’s over.”

“Doesn’t mean it is,” Sam shook his head. 

“It’s over for me,” Castiel shrugged.

“What are you saying?”

“That-,” Castiel paused and then continued. “That you’re better for me.”

“I don’t want to be _better_ for you,” Sam stuttered out. “I want to be the one you actually _want_ to be with.”

Castiel let out a breathless laugh. “You are the one I want to be with, that’s why I’m here.” 

Castiel let his hand find Sam’s waist, he let it slide across the man’s toned stomach, covered by a stubborn layer of clothing, almost seductively. He wanted the simple gesture to be a peace offering; a bridge to amends, something words could not detail so intricately. 

“Did you want me to do something to prove my love for you?” Castiel flexed his fingers, pulling Sam’s shirt into his palm.

“Just say _you’ll let me be your man_ ,” Sam’s words were distant; distracted.

Castiel smiled and brought his mouth to Sam’s once more. 

This time their kiss would not be broken; words would not interrupt it. Nor would reality claw to separate them and there would be no pauses in between their love making, because time would stop for them.

&&&

Dean would admit that his words were fire; scorching and searing with their incorporeal edges, incinerating everyone he loved. It wasn’t any wonder that his loved ones left him eventually, if they didn’t they would turn to ashes.

“ _Jesus Christ, you’re emo_ ,” Gabriel piped next to Dean.

Dean jumped, as usual and ran a shaking hand over his face. He thought he would be alone parked in the parking lot of a long abandoned casino. He hadn’t taken into consideration the adamant angel constantly on his heels. 

“What’s _emo_?” Dean asked as he relaxed in the drivers seat.

“It is not of import,” Gabriel said roughly and then laughed, as if the mocking tone of his words held some deeper meaning.

“What are you doing here?”

Gabriel’s face went serious, almost sympathetic. It struck Dean as rare, his mind would quickly compare it to a miracle or catching a glimpse of a falling star, or something more infrequent. 

“I came to see how you were doing.”

“Not very good.”

“Cas came to talk to me.”

“He did? What did he say?”

“Basically, blamed me for his troubles,” Gabriel sighed. “And then realized that I wasn’t the source of his problems.”

“I’m the source of his problems.”

“Uh, no, you’re not,” Gabriel snorted most inelegantly and fidgeted in the passengers seat. 

“Of course I am,” Dean continued stubbornly. “There’s something wrong with me, there always has been.”

“That’s bullshit,” the archangel spat. “All this self-loathing mumbo jumbo is just a apathy trip that _you_ need to get over.”

Dean furrowed his brow. Gabriel’s hard statements took him aback, like he was hearing the truth for the first time and how honest and alien those words sounded. 

“This little _situation_ has you questioning your life and your lifestyle choices, when that’s not the problem,” Gabriel bit his lower and shook his head. “The only thing _wrong_ is the relationship you’re in. If you’re bored **break up** , if he’s not enough for you **break up** , if he just wasn’t the one **break up**.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak.

“Hold on,” Gabriel put a finger up. “You’re confused and I get that, but when it comes down to it, what do you want?”

Strange images popped into Dean’s head. The first was of Gabriel, the way his eyes looked epically glazed over as they stared into Dean’s own, then the way they shut at the last second as the angel’s lips touched an equal softness. 

The second was of Castiel, a shadow looming over his figure. Most prominently over his face, were his lips were perfectly parted and his head tilted in that fascinating way that always made Dean smile. 

And the third image was of Sam, sitting next to him in the Impala as they drove down a infinite road, a book open in front of him balancing on his knee as one of his broad hands managed to hold it steady; overcoming the bumpiness of their journey. 

Suddenly, Dean would ask the strangest thing. “No one ever said _‘thank you‘_ , did they?”

Gabriel groaned and let his head slink around. “ _Dean_.”

“No,” Dean smiled. “Not even me.”

“Thank you for what?” Gabriel tried to play stupid.

“Gabriel,” a cute smile hung at the edges of Dean’s mouth.

“You better hush now, baby,” Gabriel waved a hand.

“Thank you for stopping the Apocalypse,” Dean swatted Gabriel on the shoulder playfully with the back of his hand. “I know it’s late, but there it is.”

“I didn’t want a _‘thank you‘_ , a sigh escaped his lips. 

“What did you want?”

“It is not of import,” the once joking tone that carried the sentence had left.

Dean stared at the archangel for a long time.

“You like me,” Dean said flatly. 

“I’ve always liked you. Since the first time I met you, remember? I told you I liked you right before you stuck that stake through me.”

Dean laughed, genuinely, for what seemed like the first time in a long time. “Yeah, I remember.”

“But, what do you want?” Gabriel pressed. 

The lightness of the mood subsided. “I don’t know.”

“You want Cas, don’t you?” 

A bitterness filled Dean’s mouth. “I want to work things out.” Saying those words felt like a let down, a beautiful repetitious disaster. 

Gabriel nodded, hesitantly. “I could erase everything, if you wanted me to. I could make it seem like…nothing happened and everything was _right_.”

_That must’ve been hard to say_ , Dean thought.

“No,” Dean shook his head. “I don’t want to start over like that.”

“Understandable,” Gabriel licked his lips, his mind teetering on the question he wanted most answered. “What if it doesn’t work out?” 

“It has to.”


	3. All Good Things Come to an End

Dean had rolled down the windows of the Impala instead of having the A.C. on, allowing the cool morning wind to fill the car. The air didn’t exactly smell fresh, the cause of driving through Sin City, but the feeling of the air was crisp just the same.

The morning was bright and enthusiastic, very hopeful. The type of hope that made the sweat under his arms tingle, which was sort of funny now that he thought about it. In other words, he was excited.

There was still a sour feeling in his throat, it kind of felt like heart burn actually. The sort of feeling he didn’t want to be experiencing as he made his way back to Cas.

And that felt good to say, ‘ _back to Cas_.” It felt safe and like home, or what a home would feel like anyway.

His little chat with Gabriel hadn’t entirely put things into perspective, but Dean knew what _worked_. What had to work, if they all, Sam and Cas and himself that was, wanted to continue living comfortably with each other.

Sam would get over his little infatuation with Castiel, and Dean would forgive Cas for whatever he had done with Sam, and Gabriel…well he was the only wild card that seemed to be in his hand.

He turned into the motel’s parking lot and parked the Impala right across from the rooms they had rented. He only hesitated for an instance after he opened the car door and swung a sensation less leg out and onto the pavement.

His gut did a flip flop as he headed for his and Castiel’s room.

_This is the moment of truth_ , he told himself. He had no idea what he was going to say, or possibly do, but he had to try something. He couldn’t just let it all fall apart.

The door wasn’t locked and as he pushed it open he only half expected Cas to be in the room, waiting.

He wasn’t

Dean passed his eyes over the room. The bed hadn’t been slept in, everything was exactly where it had been before.

His stomach dropped, his eyes drifted off to Sam’s door.

Two steps and he was in front of it, ear pressed to wood.

It was all silent expect for the sound of rushing air, a product of the outside. He tried to listen harder if it was possible; he listened as if there was something to hear.

_And oh God_ , if there was **_something_** to hear. But nothing stirred not a creak of a moving mattress, not even a murmured whisper muffled by the walls that separated Dean from _Sam and Castiel_ ; most definitely, quite possibly _Sam **and** Castiel_.

He pulled his head back from the door, his stomach lurching and bubbling, a sickness welling up inside of him.

Dean stumbled back into his own room, on shaky legs and with a swimmy head.

He was always lousy at fixing things, a carpenter of destruction would be a fitting description for what he was.

A couple of steps into the room and he fell to the floor, a hand cupped over his mouth.

All his delusions of an unbroken relationship had shattered to pieces, and as a million and one thoughts ran through his head, he vomited on the ugly carpeting of the room.

&&&

It was morning, bright and furious. The day wanted to start, but Sam’s body protested in every way as he tried to move to comply with the early hour.

He laughed quietly.

“What is it?” Castiel asked, his voice smooth like velvet.

“I can’t move,” Sam nuzzled his nose into the smaller man’s hair and pulled him in tighter, causing his chest to press tenderly into Castiel’s back.

“That’s a good thing.”

Sam couldn’t see it, but he could feel a smile drawing up on Castiel’s lips at the end of his sentence.

“It is a good thing.”

They laid there together, naked in bed, clutching at each other for another moment. They wanted to disagree with the concept of time and not move forward, just to stay perpetually entangled in each other’s arms, but Castiel broke and sat up.

“I’m going to get some clothes.”

“Do you have to?” A definite hint of protest in Sam’s voice.

“I’ll be right back,” Castiel pulled on his pants, zipping them up but leaving them unbuttoned. “I promise.”

Sam groaned and twisted in the bed.

“Hurry back.”

&&&

The sun was up, not high in the sky but just peeking over the horizon, greeting the world.

Castiel shielded his eyes and shut the door behind him. His bare feet dragged lazily against the walk, a reluctant swagger moved him.

His head whipped towards the parking lot, suddenly.

Beams of light radiated off the hood of the Impala, Dean was back.

Castiel licked his lips and turned to the room he shared with Dean, _had_ shared with Dean.

The door was unlocked, and he didn’t know what he’d find once he opened it, but he pushed it open anyway.

The room smelled stale and sour, a strong stomach held back his reflex to gag as soon as the air hit him.

Dean was sitting on a chair at the table, his head in his hands.

“I threw up,” he muttered, his voice sounding sticky and congested.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked immediately, his peripheral vision catching sight of where Dean vomited.

Dean lifted his head, his eyes were bloodshot, his face covered with sweat.

“No.”

There would be a part of Castiel that would never stop caring for Dean, never stop fearing for his well being. A part of him that would never stop loving him, even after he was gone; no longer his.

To see Dean in pain, brought him pain, like a reflex long engraved into his soul.

It didn’t take Castiel long to make his way to Dean’s side, taking the hunter’s face in his hands.

“You feel cold,” he ran his palm over Dean’s forehead. “Are you sick? What happened?”

Dean blinked and didn’t answer quickly, making Castiel feel worse about everything.

“ _Dean_ ,” he pleaded.

“It’s really over between us, isn’t it?” Dean’s green eyes flashed upward to meet blue.

Castiel let his hands fall away from Dean’s face, opting instead to kneel before him.

“I’m never going to stop loving you,” he rushed out, trying to sound validated, even with everything he had done with Sam.

Dean nodded mechanically.

“But,” he continued.

“I don’t need to hear it, Cas,” Dean put up a hand.

“I know you don’t, but-.”

“I said, it’s fine,” Dean stood up. “If you want to be with Sam, then be with Sam.”

None of the words felt right, not to Castiel. It wasn’t a blessing Dean was giving, but a surrender.

Dean pushed past Castiel, purposely knocking the kneeling man’s shoulder on the way.

“Dean…”

The hunter paid no attention.

“I’ll be right back,” he stopped at the doorway. “Sorry about the mess, call room service or something.”

“Dean,” Castiel got to his feet.. “Where are you going?”

“Tell Sam I’ll be right back, and to not go anywhere without me,” Dean looked over his shoulder. “Bye, Cas.”

He slammed the door behind him as he walked out.

&&&

Golden brown hair, flashes of green like delicate emerald crystals, tiny freckles scattered without meaning across the man’s nose.

Gabriel liked to picture Dean quite often, have the hunter’s face run over and over in his head, like an echo everlastingly reverberating back to him.

He liked to imagine the man’s lips, full and soft, overwhelmingly sweet and tender. Everything he came to experience that one time.

How he wanted so badly for that to be real again.

There were times when Gabriel would give in, create himself something fake and equally beautiful but most definitely not the same. He would manifest himself a version of Dean, completely believable on the exterior, cold simulation on the inside.

The imposter would smile all the same, cheeky grin and flash of white pearl. But he would never speak, Gabriel didn’t want him to.

It was greedy and lustful and exactly the type of lifestyle Gabriel liked to live, but it still hurt. It wasn’t real and as much as it _felt_ real-oh yeah, it felt real-it wasn’t.

To be honest, it made him sick to his stomach sometimes, but he never left himself unsatisfied before he waved the manifestation out of existence.

It was crude, but sometimes his ache for Dean wouldn’t go away. He knew his obsessive semi-stalker like behavior had gotten him closer to the man, subtly tangling himself in Dean’s life.

He never meant it to be in a conniving way, he didn’t want to steal Dean away from Castiel, that was not his intention. Wedging himself in Dean’s life hadn’t worked anyway, the man still ran off to the archangel’s little brother.

Over the time, Gabriel had made himself keen on Dean. He couldn’t precisely spot the hunter in the world, the Enochian sigils made sure of that, but last time he checked no one carved any sigils on the Impala.

Dean was on the move, and not happy and by the thoughts passing through his head, it seemed he was running away.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked suddenly as he appeared in the shotgun seat of the Impala.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Dean jerked the steering wheel of the Impala to the left, causing the car to swerve.

Gabriel telepathically regained control of the car till Dean settled.

“Gabriel,” he sighed.

“Sorry, I know, no invite, but just what the Hell are you doing?”

“Leaving this place,” Dean licked his lips and pursed them together tightly, acting as if he were self-assured.

“Things didn’t go as planned,” the archangel tried not to sound to joyous amongst the man whose heart was still raw.

Dean shook his head, his eyes adamantly on the road ahead.

“So, what? You’re just going to leave Sam and Cas behind?”

“I’m not,” Dean slammed his palm on the steering wheel. “I’m not leaving them behind.”

Gabriel splayed out his hands. “What do you call this?”

“I can’t see Cas with him! I can’t be around them if they’re together! _Okay_?”

“Hey, okay, it’s alright. I get it.”

Dean sighed hard and began to pull the Impala over to the side of the road.

“I just can’t deal with it right now,” he shifted the gear into park; the drone of passing cars muffled by the enclosure of the vehicle.

Gabriel understood, it wasn’t hard to, but he just believed it wasn’t possible for Dean to honestly leave Castiel, much less Sam for that matter. Yet, here was Dean Winchester, between the Leaving Las Vegas sign and wherever the Hell he was going.

“Well, if that’s what you want,” the archangel sighed. “Then so be it.”

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes in his lap; distant.

Gabriel had always acknowledged Dean’s strong jaw line, his obviously handsome features even amidst the man’s sadness they seemed exceedingly striking.

It was an impulse, a strong one, that drove Gabriel to plant a soft kiss in the spot where Dean’s neck met his the edge of his jaw.

His lips stayed there for a second longer, expectant of maybe a turn of the hunter’s head so that lips could meet lips like before.

And they did.

Dean turned his face slowly, he reached up his hands and slid his fingers through the angel’s hair, pulling him into that much wanted kiss.

Gabriel quickly placed his hand on the inside of the man’s thigh, dragging it higher and onto the growing bulge that had presented itself in the heat of the moment.

Both men moaned into each others mouths, hungry and fiery.

“I can’t,” Dean pulled back, suddenly; his lips glistening with saliva.

Gabriel groaned.

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized. “It’s-”

“To soon,” Gabriel finished, his fingertips brushing over his wet lips.

“ _Yeah…_ ”

Of all that was hopeless and lost, of all that he wanted, of all he could have. The one _thing_ , the one _person_ he wanted most, was recoiling from his touch.

“Dean,” the archangel sighed.

“It’s not like I don’t like you,” Dean tried. “I do, it’s just, I have some serious hang-ups right now.”

“Are you giving me the ‘ _It’s not you, it’s me._ ‘ speech?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t want to give you that speech, Gabe,” he made a face and shrugged.

“Did you just call me, Gabe?” The angel snorted.

“That’s not the point!”

“No, I get ‘ _the point_ ‘, you still love my brother,” those words were entirely difficult for Gabriel to say.

“I do, yeah,” Dean said breathily.

_He could get over that_ , Gabriel thought. And it was a bitter thought, full of spite and some jealousy, emotions that were beginning to be to human for him.

“I just need some time away from everyone, you know?”

“Won’t they look for you?”

Dean nodded. “I suppose, yeah. That kind of puts a damper on the whole ’time away’ part.”

“I can fix that,” Gabriel offered.

“And how are you going to do that?”

Gabriel reached for one of Dean’s hands, catching the hunter’s right one before he knew what the angel was up to. He quickly intertwined their fingers together, an immense heat beginning to well up from Gabriel’s palm.

“What the-,” a hurt look began to appear on Dean’s face. He tried to shake free of Gabriel’s grip, but his hold was strong.

Gabriel was burning him, making the callused flesh of the man’s palm blister and boil.

“ _Fuck!_ Dean exclaimed.

Gabriel let him go.

“ _What the fuck did you just do to me_?” Dean raised his burned hand to his face, examining the symbol that had been seared into him.

“It’s a cloaking symbol,” Gabriel thumbed his nose.

“A what?”

“Sam and Cas won’t be able to find you as long as that’s on your hand.”

“It’s like the sigils Cas burned into my ribs?”

Gabriel nodded.

“Couldn’t you have done something like that? I mean, this just looks ugly.”

“What looks ugly?” The archangel questioned cheekily.

Dean glanced at his hand again. The symbol was gone.

“You sneaky bastard,” he chuckled. “I don’t know, Gabe, Sam is pretty stealthy, give him a couple of weeks and he’ll find me.”

“Why don’t you take a look in the mirror,” Gabriel suggested.

Dean’s mouth was opened into a little ‘o’, his brow deeply furrowed. He flipped the over head mirror down and peered into it, doing a double take as he gazed at a reflection that wasn’t his own.

“What the Hell?” Dean touched his face, which felt like his own, but in the mirror was completely different. “Gabriel…,” Dean turned his gaze slowly to the smiling angel.

“That’s how they won’t find you, they can stare right into your face and never know it’s you,” he waggled his eyebrows. “Pretty nifty, huh?”

“I look kind of German,” Dean pushed out his jaw and looked deeper into the mirror.

“It’s a preference,” Gabriel shrugged.

“You picked this face for me?”

The face in the mirror was all blue eyes and strong rugged good looks. Dean thought his old reflection was just as good looking if not better, but he could deal with it.

“It’s just a mask, you still look like yourself to me,” Gabriel smirked. “And that’s just the way I like you.”

“And you think this will work?”

“You seem pretty dead set on avoiding your brother…and my brother.”

Dean stayed quiet.

“I need some time,” he finally said.

Gabriel hated to ask, but the question slipped out before much thought went into holding it back.

“What about me?”

There was a long pause between his question and the answer Dean would give him, but like all things having to do with Dean, he would do whatever it took-even wait-to have him.

“I need time.”

 

 

And Dean looks like [this](http://i1020.photobucket.com/albums/af321/Bleeding10Silver/Hugo.jpg) when cloaked/masked by Gabriel's little symbol. You know Hugo Stiglitz, right? ;D as portrayed by Til Schwieger.


	4. Things I Won't Say and Expect You To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam wonders what will bring Dean back and Gabriel visits Dean.

Sam’s chest would tighten in the middle of the night causing his breath to hitch and his eyes to rapidly flutter open. There would be a cold sweat covering his body more completely than the sheets that were so adamantly wrapped around him. The man laying next to him would sit up quickly in the darkness asking over Sam’s heavy breathing if he was ok. Sam would say yes and quickly usher the man back to sleep.

Almost every night since Dean had left- _disappeared_ -Sam would wake up like that, scared and guilty; mostly guilty. As much as Castiel tried to calm him, Sam knew that he would never be right again. 

After months of searching for his older brother with absolutely no luck, he concluded that Dean simply did not want to be found. Sam completely understood that, given what had happened between the three of them.

Castiel felt his share of guilt, and even though he would always reassure Sam that Dean just needed time to cope, the ex-angel would sometimes catch himself dwelling on the thought that maybe Dean would never return. Which was a thought that constantly threatened his heart with unimaginable pain. 

Sam often thought the same thing, that his brother would be stubborn under these circumstances and teach him and his cheating ex-boyfriend a lesson. But in thinking that, he felt as though Dean had been away so long that he had untruthfully remembered him as a _cruel_ person, when he wasn’t. 

_Guilt is hard to bear_ , Sam would think after waking up from his nightmares. It made him question everything that had transpired and although he would never say so out loud he would sometimes regret the man lying next to him.

He would regret that he had betrayed his brother wholeheartedly for Castiel, and not thought twice about it while it was happening. 

Sam just couldn’t help feeling that way, and long after his body would cease to tense in the night and he would turn to wrap Castiel in his arms, he would take back all the regretful thoughts that had passed through his mind. 

Regret and a guilt stricken brother would not bring Dean back.

Sam fell asleep wondering what would. 

&&&

**Four Months Later**

Dean threw his disposable razor into the trashcan and wiped his face clean of any left over shaving cream. He smiled into the mirror goofily and mentally congratulated himself on successfully shaving without nicking himself whatsoever. 

For awhile he had let a beard grow out-which made him look like a lumberjack, especially with all the flannel he wore-but after that he tried his best to keep clean shaven. 

It wasn’t easy to say the least. Getting used to the new planes of the face Gabriel had given him was a tedious process, mostly because he hadn’t had to think about not cutting himself shaving in a _long_ time. 

Besides the new face to get used to, Dean had to adjust to being on his own. It had been _years_ since he had gone so long by himself, and it wasn’t a pleasant change. 

The silence got to him a lot; the sense of seclusion even more. Even going on cases didn’t help bring back any form of familiarity to him.

Still, even with all of the cons of being solitary, he didn’t wish to return to Sam and Cas. Everything still hurt in that spectrum of his heart, and if he thought about what had happened to long he’d drive himself to the point of apathy- _again_.

For one week, and only one week because that’s all he would allow himself, Dean did simply nothing. He rented himself a motel room, hauled in as much groceries as the mini refrigerator could hold, and shut himself up with daytime television and crappy made-for-tv-movies; not to mention some porn. 

It was the longest week of his life, and he could swear that he might’ve of died once or twice during that time. Figuratively speaking, of course. 

He thought mostly of Sam and Castiel, obviously. Every stray thought always came back to them; what they did, what they were doing. 

Dean knew his brother, and he knew the guy was probably beating himself up over everything. Hell, maybe he was regretting getting with Cas right that moment. Dean was willing to bet good money on that. 

Despite, feeling bitter and hateful towards their actions, deep down, he knew the pair were probably better for each other. It took Dean some time to be able to admit that.

When it came down to it, in the last days, he wasn’t treating Cas very well at all. He didn’t like to use the usual defense of not having had a long lasting relationship before to cover up the deterioration of his first serious relationship. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for relationships, it had never been his style before, so why try at all? 

He had really liked Cas, though. Something _did_ separate him from the rest of the random waitresses and barflies. He _did_ love him, and something Dean didn’t understand about relationships before became clear; sometimes people drift apart, sometimes they weren’t meant for each in the long run. It took Dean a long time to accept that, or maybe tolerate would be a better word. 

So after four months of being alone, sulking, hunting things and saving people, there was a knock at the door. 

Dean was caught by surprise by it, having just gotten out of the bathroom. 

He slid some pants on and walked over to the door, his head curiously cocked to the side. He put his eye to the peep hole and passed over glimpses of dark blonde hair. 

Dean smirked and unlocked the door, he pulled it open enthusiastically. 

“Here I was thinking those Enochian sigils served some purpose,” Dean thumbed his nose and let the man come in. “You know, keep angels from finding me.”

“Eh,” Gabriel started in. “I had to do some cleaning up when I did that cloaking thing.”

Gabriel looked around the room and Dean shut the door behind him.

“So, you knock now?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to walk in on a questionable situation,” the archangel shimmied like he was going to suddenly burst into a dance. 

“Yeah, I totally believe that’s the reason,” Dean grinned. “Sure it isn’t that I’m at least a little bit saner this week?”

“That would mean I was reading your thoughts,” Gabriel narrowed his eyes, guiltily. “And that would be bad.” 

Dean chuckled and made his way to the kitchen area. “Want a beer?”

“Sounds good,” Gabriel threw himself onto the bed and made himself comfortable on his side. 

Dean bent over in front of the mini fridge and reached far in the back for a cold beer. 

Gabriel cocked a eyebrow and tilted his head, getting a good view of Dean’s jean clad ass.

“Heineken, okay?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Uh, yeah, it’s fine.” 

Dean handed him the beer and joined him on the bed. 

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” Dean twisted the cap off his beer.

“I just wanted to see how you were getting along. If you were, _you know_ , okay.”

Dean nodded after taking a sip of his drink. “I’m holding up.” 

“You sure?”

“As I can ever be,” he sighed. 

“Not to sound totally like a chick, but if you want to talk about something,” Gabriel paused. “Anything at all, I’ll listen.” 

“Thanks, Gabe.”

Dean chugged the rest of his beer, belched and tossed the empty bottle aside. For a second, Gabriel thought Dean wouldn’t open up. Which scared him a little more than Dean actually coming clean. 

“Okay,” Dean held out his hands and then clapped them together. “So, fuck _my_ life, because for the longest time I thought the best part of me was _him_.”

 _He’s actually going to talk_ , Gabriel thought. _Surprising_.

Right away Gabriel understood what Dean was saying. He was talking about Cas and from the sounds of it, the release of words was going to lean towards a more self pity trip than anything else.

“You know, I thought my life would be better with him and everything would be fine. He would be my solid foundation, kind of like Sam, and things would just _be better_.” 

Dean shook his head.

“But I took him for granted, I think. I didn’t really talk to him, I didn’t really consider how he was feeling at any point,” he strained a small laugh and turned to Gabriel. “A majority of the time, I just wanted to have sex with him.” 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Gabriel dragged out, uncomfortably. “Talking about my brother’s sex life, not one of my hobbies.”

Dean laughed. “Sorry, I was just being honest.”

“No, I get it,” Gabriel handed him the Heineken that was meant for him to drink. “How do you feel about him now?” He paused and continued. “It’s been a while.”

“It has,” the hunter agreed, taking the beer and twisting the cap off. “You want the truth?”

Gabriel nodded, slowly.

“I love him, but I don’t think I’m in love with him,” he sipped at his beer. “And if that ain’t cliché, I don’t know what is.”

The archangel smirked. 

“But, I’m over it for the most part,” Dean continued. “Hey,” he toasted in the air. “At least I don’t cry anymore.”

“Real men admit that they cry,” Gabriel nodded and then laughed. 

Dean joined him and then proceeded to chug his second beer. 

“Listen, Gabe, I just want to thank you,” he cleared his throat. “For being here, and all.”

“No problem,” Gabriel sighed. “I just want you to be okay.”

Dean, who had had his back to Gabriel through most of their conversation, turned to face the laying angel.

“’M okay,” he spoke softly and lowered his head, letting his lips sink slowly into Gabriel’s. 

Gabriel pushed himself up and placed a hand behind Dean’s head, making the kiss deeper. The hunter let himself sink down, and as he placed his arms on either side of Gabriel’s torso, he broke from the kiss and let his tongue run over the archangel’s bottom lip. 

Gabriel drew him down; closer. Dean complied totally and adjusted himself on top of him, letting his body become molded to the strong being underneath him. 

Dean’s mouth was warm and sweet, the strong slow movement of his tongue dragged out hungry moans from the archangel. Dean pushed his hips forward into Gabriel’s and grinded down on him slowly, deliberately wrecking all sense of control he seemed to be holding onto. 

He began to suck on the angel’s neck, making extra time on some areas; areas Dean knew would succumb to bruising later on.

Dean, who had forgotten to put on a shirt and was gloriously bare-chested, began to feel Gabriel’s warm hands creep down his back and firmly grasp his buttocks.

Dean lifted his head up slightly and a laugh slinked out from behind his lips.

“What?” Gabriel asked, flustered. His lips were flushed red and his hair had become a passionate mess.

Dean pushed himself up slowly. 

“This is-,” he rubbed his face. “This is, I don’t know. What is this?”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel propped himself up on his elbows.

“ I mean, is this going to be another-,” Dean gritted his teeth. “Another _relationship_?”

The Archangel laughed and licked his lips. 

“I don’t know,” Gabriel shrugged. “I’ve never really had one of _those_.”

“Okay, because, I’m not good when it comes to any type of relationship,” he emoted. “And then to come out of one just to hop into another? That’s just stupid.” 

Gabriel nodded; wide-eyed and curious as to where Dean was heading with his statements.

“I mean, I like you and I’m pretty much over everything that happened. Except when I think about it - _them_ \- a lot. And-,” he shook his head. “I’m tired of talking about this.”

“You haven’t really said anything,” Gabriel smirked.

“I guess you’re wondering where this leaves us?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Dean opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly.

People say that right before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Well, all the times Dean had been killed off, he’d never so much as seen a blip of his shortest memory. Yet, at this moment, when he had to decide whether he should be with Gabriel or not, all the events that had transpired in the past months played out in slow motion. 

Dean had never been good at talking; it wasn’t his thing. And yet, he felt as though he had talked a whole hell of a lot; about, Cas, Sam, _and_ Gabriel. 

At the instance that words mattered most, he couldn’t find anything to say. And as Gabriel sat in front of him, expectant, Dean realized that some things were just better left unsaid.


End file.
